Please Don't
by My Quiet Riot
Summary: As much as you beg and plead, sometimes death's wretched grip is something you just can't bargain with. Rated 'T' for dark themes, some violence, and minor language. Death!fic, one-shot.


**Hello, Deathicated! I know I should be working on _Beginning Again_, but I just got this great idea for a one-shot Death!fic. I've never written a story in which I kill off one of the main characters like this, so hopefully this doesn't suck too bad. I usually write from just Natara's perspective, but I'll be using both Mal and Natara's throughout this. Also, the tense will switch from past to present at the end; I think you'll be able to figure out why, but if not, I'll explain at the end. **

**Alright, enough of my rambling; enjoy, and please let me know what you think!**

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**Mal's POV**

Gunshots echoed throughout the partially-finished basement of Jackson Hunt, the main suspect for our latest case. After Hunt murdered three young women in a matter of days, Natara and I had finally managed to catch up to him. Hunt would pretend to flirt with these women, flattering them before drugging a drink and kidnapping them. He brought them all to that very basement and ended their lives in the cruelest ways possible, often torturing them for hours on end before finally ending their misery. All three women had been innocent civilians, no older than their mid-twenties, who had just wanted a simple night out. We had burst into the house just moments before another woman was about to be tortured to her pitiless death.

With the heavily-drugged woman safely within the confines of an ambulance and more back-up on the way, Natara and I ducked behind a flipped over table just as another round of bullets peppered the cream-colored wall behind us. Poking her arm out from behind the wooden table, Natara blindly fired several rounds in the general direction of the man. He yelped in pain, and I peeked out long enough to see that a bullet had found its way to Hunt's left arm. He seethed in rage, attempting to nurse his injured arm as he shot back. Natara ducked back behind the table just in time, as another bullet whizzed past, impacting an empty bookshelf behind us. Broken pieces of wood flew up, and I yelled a warning to Natara as splinters of the bookcase rained down upon us.

Several clicks followed by a frustrated string of cuss-words signaled that Hunt had ran out of ammo. As he frantically re-loaded, Natara and I took the moment to spring from cover, both aiming our loaded firearms at his chest.

"Dammit!" Hunt yelled, hastily shoving a new magazine into the gun's chamber.

"Freeze!" I commanded, though I knew it was futile. "Gun down, hands up!"

"Like hell!" he shouted back. He pulled the slide to secure the newly-loaded magazine before taking up a rather poor firing stance, slowly switching aim of the firearm from Natara to myself, and back again.

"Don't move!" Natara warned, readjusting her grip on the semi-automatic weapon. "Or I will be forced to spatter your brains against that wall back there."

"Big talk," he scoffed, sneering at Natara. I angrily adjusted my stance, resisting the urge to shoot the guy right then and there. Some people just didn't take female officers seriously.

"I'll have you know," she growled, narrowing her eyes, "That I _can _shoot." With that, she fired off three warning shots, purposely missing her target by a fraction of an inch. Hunt's eyes widened, though he tried to hide it with another disdainful glare.

"Fine," he admitted begrudgingly, "Maybe you have decent aim."

In his split-second moment of surprise, he lowered his weapon slightly. Taking the opportunity, I lunged forward and kicked his weapon out of his hand. It skidded across the concrete floor before coming to a rest across the unfinished room.

"Oh, so that's how you wanna play?" he taunted. With blinding speed, he whipped around, grabbed a heavy-looking decorative plate from the shelf behind him, and chucked it across the room with deadly purpose, aiming right for Natara's head.

"Watch out!" I hollered in warning. She ducked out of the way just in time, rolling on the ground before nimbly jumping back up. The plate slammed against the wall, shattering as shards of glass skittered across the floor. I kicked several broken fragments to the side as Hunt howled in frustration, whirling around to snatch another. He aimed this one at me, and Natara shoved me out of the way with a split-second to spare. The plate whistled past the place where my head was less than a second ago, shattering as it hit the cold floor. I breathed a quick 'thanks' as I picked myself back up.

Again grumbling in frustration, Hunt hoisted a wooden chair over his head, grunting as he catapulted through the air. It flew straight towards Natara who had looked away at the wrong moment. She saw it a split-second too late, and only had time to turn away before it slammed into her, knocking her sideways.

"Ahh!" she yelped as she hit the floor, rubbing her shoulder where the object had impacted.

"You okay?" I asked hurriedly as she scrambled up, throwing her arms up to catch the hefty book that came flying at her next. Easily intercepting it, she hurled it back.

"Augh!" Hunt exclaimed as the book flew at him, impacting right in his stomach and leaving him gasping for air. "Damn you!"

"I'm fine," she gasped, slightly out of breath.

As we were both momentarily distracted, Hunt seized the moment, sprinting across the room and snatching his weapon up, breathlessly aiming at Natara.

"Alright, woman," Hunt spat with disgust, seething as he took up another poor firing stance. "I'm taking _you_ out first."

The next twenty seconds seemed to go by in slow-motion.

I desperately yelled her name as Hunt's gun went off, the bullet racing towards Natara at break-neck speed. My first and only instinct at that moment was to save her. Without hesitation, I leapt in front of her, shielding her body with mine.

"Urk!" The bullet lodged into me as it buried itself in my chest. I fell to the ground with a thump, and what happened next was a blur. I heard Natara scream my name, followed by three rapid gunshots, a male's voice cut off mid-howl, and the thud of a body falling lifeless against the cement. I heard her yelling into her radio, demanding an ambulance from whoever was on the other end.

"MAL!" she shrieked again, running over to me. She rushed to my side, kneeling in the rapidly-expanding pool of blood around me. My chest ached as rivers of blood flowed from the deadly wound. Sheer terror filled her eyes as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She grasped my hand and desperately spoke to me.

"Mal, please stay with me, you'll be alright; an ambulance is on the way," she cried, begging me not to slip away. I almost laughed, though it hurt too much to try. I was not going to be alright; that I knew for sure.

"I'm not stupid, Nat, and neither are you," I rasped gently, using all of my strength to meekly squeeze her hand. "I was just shot in the chest, and I'm swimming in a Pacific-sized pool of my own blood."

"No!" she protested loudly. "Stop it; stop talking like that. You're going to be fine, okay? Just please stay with me,"

"Nat, please, I-" I started, only to be cut off again.

"Mal, no!" she snapped, choking on tears she was doing her best to hold back. I knew she was aware of my rapidly-deteriorating state; she was just trying to convince herself otherwise. "I'm not going to let you die, dammit. Just stay-"

"Natara," I managed firmly, instantly silencing her. "Stop. You and I both know that I'm not going to make it out of here. Please don't make our last few minutes together a trip to Egypt."

"Egypt?" she choked out, a questioning look in her tear-filled eyes.

"Egypt. Denial. The Nile. You know, like the river, except denial, with a 'd'..." Natara managed a light, pained laugh before nodding, tears sliding down her face and onto me, mixing with the crimson stains on my shirt.

"Dammit, Mal, it's all my fault. It should be me lying here covered in blood, not you." She blinked tears from her eyes, hastily wiping them on her sleeve. "I should've just-"

"Natara," I said again, firmer than last time. "No. Do not say that. Do not _ever_ say that. It was _my _choice to jump in front of you and take the bullet. You mean more to me than anything, and I want _you _safe, even if that costs me my life. I can honestly say you are worth it."

"Mal..." she squeaked brokenly, giving up on trying to conceal the tears.

"Just listen, okay?" I paused and coughed as a coppery taste filled my mouth. I cringed but ignored it; I needed to tell her to fight off her natural response to emotional pain. "I don't want you to blame yourself for this, okay? It wasn't your fault; it was my choice, and I'd do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe. I'm so sorry I have to leave you like this; it wasn't my ideal plan, either. But please know that there was nothing you could've done to stop me. I love you so, so much." By now, tears had filled my eyes, and I did my best to blink them away.

"Mal, no," she pleaded. "I love you. Please don't leave me. I can't do this without you; Please, I need you here."

"No," I continued firmly, feeling consciousness beginning to fade away. "You'll be okay. This hurts me, too, leaving you here like this. But you need to keep your head up, okay?" She nodded but said nothing as she gently rubbed my palm with her thumb.

My vision started to blur and turn red around the edges; I knew I didn't have much time.

"Listen," I started gently. "I can't hold on much longer, but you need to promise me something." She nodded as tears rained down her face.

"Anything," she managed to choke out.

"Promise me that you won't give up. You're beautiful and smart, and honestly one of the strongest people I know. Give yourself time to grieve, but you need to stay strong, okay? Please don't shut the world out or push others away or stop doing what you're so good at; if you do, I swear to God, I will come back to haunt you in ghost-form." This earned me a small, almost-forced laugh. "There will probably be a point where you'll get mad at me, but I want you to know that's okay. There might even be a point in time where you want to move on-" Natara urgently shook her head, managing a quiet 'no'. "-but I want you to know that's also okay. I want you to be happy." I paused as I felt every muscle in my body weakening; I had only minutes left, if even that long.

"You'll be okay, but you need to stay strong. Never blame yourself for this, and know that I love you more than life itself. Can you _please _promise me that?" Natara hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded several times.

"Yes," she choked in a near-whisper. "I promise." I sighed in relief as my vision blurred further; death threatened to overtake me at any second.

"I love you so much," she cried, locking desperate eyes with me. I summoned all of my remaining strength to pull her down towards me, grabbing her shirt and kissing her one last time. The salty taste of her tears intermixed with the sweet smell of her perfume as we shared a passionate kiss. I eventually had to breakaway, as my breath was coming in short, quick gasps now.

"I love you, too," I whispered. As I felt darkness overcome me, the last things I saw were Natara's beautiful, tear-filled eyes, desperately staring down at me. I vaguely heard the whirring sirens of an ambulance, people bursting in, and Natara begging me to hang on just a little longer.

As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't. The last of my strength was quickly draining, and my vision was turning red like the crimson covering my shirt. Darkness swallowed me, and the last thing I heard was Natara repeatedly screaming my name, begging in vain for me to hold on.

"C'mon, Mal, please; just hold on a little longer. Please, please don't leave me. No... no! Mal!"

* * *

**Natara's POV**

"C'mon, Mal, please; just hold on a little longer. Please, please don't leave me. No... no! Mal!"

As Mal's eyes closed for the last time, I felt my heart shatter into a million, irreparable pieces. I didn't hear the paramedics race in, only to find me sobbing on the floor next to Mal's lifeless body.

"No, no, no!" I sobbed, tears streaming down my face. "Mal, please, wake up..." I put my head in my hands, sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. Hot tears rolled through my fingers and onto the floor, mixing into the pools of Mal's blood.

Everything inside me hurt. It felt like the bullet had entered my chest instead, tearing my heart out with it. Unbearable pain came crashing down, and all I could think about was the fact that Mal was gone. Every fiber of my being seemed to scream in loss, paralyzing me with emotion. I knew I promised Mal I wouldn't blame myself, but at that moment, I couldn't help it.

"It's all my fault, it's all my fault," I sobbed as someone tried to console me. "I'm so sorry, Mal; I'm so sorry."

* * *

**Mal's POV**

I have no idea where I am. I mean, I know I'm in the same room, but I can't feel the wound in my chest. I'm here, but I'm not. It's as if I'm floating above everything; I can't quite touch the ground, if that even exists right now.

Though I don't know where I am, I do know one thing: I know Natara Williams, my partner and love of my life, is kneeling next to my lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably as paramedics and other officers rush around.

She is breaking down, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I watch helplessly as she sobs, head in her hands. Her shoulders shake, but I can't help her. I try to speak, but I know she can't hear me; nobody on that earth can hear me now. All I can do is watch as she shakily stands, her demeanor suddenly filled with an overwhelming rage. She screams loudly, picking up a vase and lobbing it at the wall. She watches as it shatters against the battered wall before moving to pick up another glass object. I watch as Blaise, Jeremy, Amy, and Kai rush in, gasping in horror at my lifeless body. Blaise's hand flies to her mouth as tears fill her eyes. Amy and Kai stare in silent horror, mouths dropped open, unable to speak a word. Jeremy runs to Natara just as she's about to throw another glass decoration. He yanks the plate from her hand, pausing to set it down before grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her back. Sobbing, she nearly falls to the floor as Jeremy tries to gently ease her down. Apparently snapping out of her trance, Amy quickly kneels by Natara, wrapping her in a tight hug that she tries to fend off. Eventually she gives in, though, and collapses against Amy, bawling into her shirt as Amy gently rubs her back, fighting off tears of her own.

As I watch this horrible scene unfold, I know there is nothing I can do. As much as I wish I could step in and comfort them- especially Natara- I know I will never be able to do that again.

Though I definitely do not regret giving up my life for Natara, I do regret not being able to be there for her.

I have to watch helplessly as the woman who I've almost never seen cry, openly bawls to an audience of nearly thirty people.

I have to watch her fall apart and hope she remembers her promise to me.

Although I know she can't hear me, I offer her one last feeble sentence: "Please don't forget."

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**I'M SORRY, _PLEASE DON'T_ KILL ME FOR THAT. I'm horrible for killing off Mal and leaving Natara like that, I know. Just let me know what you think anyways, okay? Also, I didn't edit this at all afterwards, so I apologize for any typos; this all came out in about a half an hour.**

**If you're still confused about the random switch to Mal's perspective in the present tense, I'll explain: It is supposed to be after Mal dies, where he is in some undefined dimension watching what happens after his death. He can see and hear them all, but they obviously can't see or hear him. Though I do believe in heaven and hell, neither seemed to fit with the general Cause of Death story line thus far; so I chose this unnamed third dimension. Part of what it is depends on your interpretation as the reader.**

**Again, enough of my babbling; please let me know what you thought? C:**


End file.
